


Ivy, Ruin, Rot

by vyrantiumblack



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Sex, Angels, Background Relationships, Body Horror, Drowning, Frottage, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, No Burying Your Gays, Psychological Horror, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23537635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyrantiumblack/pseuds/vyrantiumblack
Summary: Every house has ghosts. Every family has a history, has its secrets. The Scientias are shrouded in mystery and when Gladiolus Amicitia, a carer for Ignis' uncle, Atticus, becomes entangled in them, he decides to find out what darkness is haunting this family. What he finds tests him beyond reason and  he will not come from this unscathed. However, he hopes to save the one he has fallen hopelessly in love with despite the warnings.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the podcast, Mabel, and had been re-watching Requiem on Netflix. This is the result. This grandiose thing to be has a playlist. If you like ghosts, eldritch abominations and two men falling in love while one is living under a generational curse then I guess this will be up your alley (it's up mine because I love a good wlw/mlm horror story). Anyhow, enough of my rambling. Edited, yet unbeta'd. Comments and kudos are appreciated. ♥ Please enjoy!
> 
> Also here's the link to the playlist (it's best listened to out of order):https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2OVtNYqkRWVdfCet8sXGz6
> 
> 4/8/20- Edited a bit more (grammar mostly)

Atticus Scientia was dying. 

In the big old empty manor home that had been in his family for generations. The house felt, at least to Gladiolus Amicitia, like it had a story to tell. When he first stood outside it, his bags and the few belongings he kept, he was intimidated by it. The Scientia Estate loomed large and foreboding; a monument to an old family that no doubt had a family tree tapestry or volumes upon volumes of works dedicated to their lineage.

As a carer, Gladio had worked for wealthy families and poor families alike. The wealthy ones always lived alone. Their extended family members were either in other parts of the world or wanted nothing to do with them until the reading of their wills. He felt a little bad for the patient he was taking care of unless the reason why the family stayed away became clear in their treatment of him. Atticus was different and that made Gladio’s job easier. 

Gladiolus Amicitia was tasked with caring for the old man in his last days, months, or years. However long he had, Gladio was the one holding vigil. He knew Atticus had family; pictures of this family filled the house. He had looked at a few of them. Especially the one of two young people, a tall, slender woman with sandy blonde hair and piercing green eyes leaning against a man with black hair and bright blue eyes, his arm around the lady, holding her fast. They were standing in the sun, laughing happily. Gladio had asked about them and Atticus merely smiled. They were dead, he had told Gladio with the tinge of sadness coloring his words. Gladio wondered how they had died but he never asked. It wasn’t his business, really. 

Then there were the pictures of a man, about his age, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes hidden behind thick black frames. Gladio admired this one openly. Atticus had said when he saw Gladio staring at it, “That’s Ignis. He doesn’t come around much anymore. Such a shame.” 

Gladio held the picture reverently. “Why doesn’t he?” Gladio had asked. He didn’t expect Atticus to answer. It was a prying question and Gladio felt bad even asking it. 

Atticus merely chuckled, bringing his wheelchair closer to Gladio. “He says the ghosts of this place are too loud.”

If you had asked Gladio before he had set foot in Scientia Estate if he believed in ghosts, he would have laughed. There was always a logical explanation for the bumps in the night, for the door shutting on its own. Now his sister, Iris, she did. Swore up and down that something was haunting her two story townhouse and why wouldn’t her roommate, Talcott, just burn some sage or something? Gladio told her she was stressed out; the imaginings of an overworked mind. Iris had glared at him and Talcott shrugged his shoulders behind her. 

Now if you asked him about the notion of being “haunted”, well, he would tell you that was a possibility. His psych courses at the community college didn’t give him that insight; working with the elderly did. He saw in their slumped shoulders and wrinkled hands the remnants of traumas. That was a haunting he could believe in. Trauma left marks that no ghosts ever could.

He did think that the grand old house felt heavy, oppressive even. More than like it was the memories of those that had been there still lurking in the paneled wood walls of the library. Memories weren’t just imprinted on glossy photo paper or oil paint. Memories seethed behind walls, in polished wood floorboards and the ornate furniture that filled every corner of Atticus’ home. He had seen several generations of Scientias reside here, he once told Gladio. Gladio reasoned that all of them had left a trace in some way. 

Hauntings and ghosts aside, Gladio had come across something he couldn’t explain. There were days he felt as if the house was shifting, mutating into something else. He couldn’t really pinpoint why he thought that, but he knew it to be true. The house would groan and creak, the framework cracking like bones being reset. He’d find a door that a day before had not existed. Gladio wasn’t one for wild imaginings and he had been getting his sleep. No, he figured the house was changing. Then he told himself he needed to get out more often. 

The first ghost Gladio saw was standing on the landing. 

He knew it was not Atticus since he was wheelchair bound and his bedroom was now on the ground floor. Also the ghost appeared feminine. Their lithe body was draped in a soft gauzy nightgown that lifted gently as they descend the stairs. Gladio should have been in bed, instead he had went to the kitchen to put away the roast chicken that they had eaten for dinner and grabbed a few slices for a midnight snack. He stared at the apparition who in turned stared at him with wide green eyes. Their gaunt face and translucent skin made him think of that one famous painting he had seen ages ago at the Insomnia City Museum of Fine Art.

“I bled myself for you.” The voice was a wisp, barely audible. Gladio was frozen to the spot, fear coursing through his veins. “I cut myself to save you.” The ghost wailed, their hands rising to their face in agony. 

Gladio finally regained control of himself and took several steps backwards. “Who are you?”

The apparition stopped its agonizing and took him in. They looked him up and down, realization slowly dawning on them. Gladio felt his blood run cold. “You are not him,” they muttered as they faded away. 

Gladio hurried to his bedroom, his snack forgotten, and curled up under the covers like he used to when he had night terrors as a child. He stayed awake most of the night hoping that he had just imagined it all. 

The next morning the angel portrait appeared at the head of the double staircase. Normally a portrait of Atticus’ great-great grandfather and grandmother sat there gazing coldly at the artist who had been commissioned to do the piece. Gladio wondered when in the night had the paintings been swapped out. He gazed up at in, pausing in his cleaning of the house to take it in. He didn’t know it was an angel at first, assuming the figure with six empty eye sockets, gnarled hands and seven large wings lined with eyes to be a monster. The painting gave off an unsettling aura. 

He heard the sound of Atticus’ wheelchair down at the foot of the steps. “Ah, I see the angel has returned.”

Gladio dropped his rag to the ground. “It’s an angel? They look like that?”

“Have you never seen these kind of angels before?” Atticus let out an amused laugh. “That is how they all appear. ‘Be not afraid’. There’s a reason for that.”

Gladio shrugged his large shoulders. “I’m not religious,” he replied as he stooped to pick up his neglected rag. “They look…creepy.”

Atticus hummed in agreement. “Eldritch abominations, Gladiolus. A cosmic horror that men rightfully fear and put distance between.”

“This wasn’t here last night.” 

Atticus observed him with an indifferent expression. “No, it wasn’t. I assume either she put it back or the house is doing its usual temper tantrum. It has been restless.” 

Gladio opened his mouth, yet couldn’t find the words. Finally he said, “How is the house restless? I don’t understand.” In fact, he actually did. He had seen it with his own two eyes. Shifting walls, rooms with unusual dimensions and that weird church smell coming from the landscape painting not far from his room. 

Atticus held out a hand to the painting. “We Scientias have resided in these hallowed halls for centuries and have left parts of ourselves behind. The shades, apparitions, are those of us too stubborn to let the mortal coil go. Ah, I see I’m upsetting you. I apologize. Whenever you are done with your cleaning, may we have lunch? I am somewhat famished.”

The disbelief had been apparent on his face and Gladio felt ashamed, yet how could he not be weirded out by his employer’s words. Even after his run-in with one, he still didn’t believe in ghosts, however he wondered if Iris was right after all. 

“Ignis has a lady friend,” Atticus said one night over dinner. Gladio had not asked about Ignis, the wayward nephew that Atticus often spoke of. Whenever he mentioned him, he always sounded as if he missed him terribly. However, Atticus had spoken with him earlier that night. The first time in months apparently. 

Gladio looked up from his steak, his mouth full of mashed potatoes and meat. “That’s good.” He attempted to say. 

Atticus pushed his carrots around on his plate. It reminded Gladio of a small child who didn’t want to eat his vegetables. “Yes, her name is Aranea. Older than him if I remember correctly,” Atticus said as he sipped his water. “He said they were living together downtown. Apparently she works in security and wanted to be closer to her job.”

“What does Ignis do?” Gladio had been so very intrigued by Ignis. His picture was the one he always went back to and stared at. Something about him drew him in and he didn’t know what it was. Some bizarre fascination perhaps? 

“He’s a literature professor at the university.”

“Really?” Gladio’s interest was definitely piqued. If he had not gone into the home healthcare field, he had wanted to be literary critic. His love for books outweighed his love of working out which a lot of people remarked on disparagingly. 

“I take it you enjoy a good work of fiction, Gladiolus?” 

Gladio nodded, the enthusiasm written all over his face. “I had wanted to be a literary critic at one point.”

“Instead you became a carer?”

“Yeah, I’m good with people and I figured why not help those who need it, you know? Not many people enjoy this type of work.”

Atticus agreed. “Unfortunately, they do not like the company of the disabled, the old, or the dying.”

“When you put it that way it makes them sound like assholes. I guess, some folks don’t like to see others...”

“They are normally people who indulge in inspiration porn and fawn over disasters. They are, as you say, assholes.”Atticus’ normally calm green eyes flared with a sudden anger. 

“Oh.” Gladio was taken aback. He didn’t know how else to respond to that. He had never really seen Atticus upset. He had heard him passionately speaking on issues of systemic oppression, equality, and how the education system was failing so many young people. Never had he heard him raise his voice as he had now. 

Atticus sighed heavily, as if the words he had spoken had taken much of his energy. “I apologize, Gladiolus. I seem to harbor some resentment for family members who have exhibited those behaviors.”

Gladio ran a hand through his dark brown hair, the bun starting to loosen from all the work he had done that day. “It’s all right. No need to apologize, sir. I’ll take your plate if you’re done.”

“Yes, I am, and I think I will be retiring to bed as well. Good night, Gladiolus.”

Gladio watched as Atticus left the room, his shoulders sagging pitifully. He didn’t like digging into the Scientia family’s past, but there was something strange about the family. A little digging wouldn’t hurt anything. 

Iris stood outside Taaka’s Coffee, shivering even though she was bundled up in the red and black wool coat their father had gotten her and the black scarf that Jared, Talcott’s grandpa, had knitted for her. She was holding a cup of coffee and a manila envelope in her gloved hands, dancing from one foot to the other. She gave a disapproving shake of her head when she saw that Gladio only had on a black biker jacket over a thin black t-shirt and ratty blue jeans. At least he was wearing his beat up old engineer boots even though she had brought him a perfectly good pair of combat boots that didn’t have a hole in one toe.

“You honestly should have on a sweater, Gladdy,” she groaned as she passed him the envelope and coffee. 

Gladio grunted. “Nope. It’s only October and I run hot, you know that. How you doing anyway? Last time I talked to you, you were fuming that one of your professors had saddled you with a shit ton of essays.”

Iris, her irritation at Gladio’s lack of proper attire forgotten, let out a long breath. “Oh. My. God. Gladdy, I love my professor but he is such a fucking head case. Like, we all know he’s only doing this because his girlfriend and him have been fighting. She calls during class and shit and it’s so fucking annoying.” 

Gladio led Iris back into the coffee shop. He ordered a large hot mocha for her. Once they got it they took a seat by the espresso bar. The constant steaming and grinding didn’t deter Iris from her continuing her story. “It’s getting so bad though. Like we have to write a critique on Henruit’s Silence of Knowledge.”

Gladio’s ears perked up at the mention of his favorite volumes of work by Henruit. To say he was fond of Henruit’s work was an understatement; he had named his last dog after him. “You don’t like it?”

Iris shrugged, her eyes going to the ceiling. “It’s historical fiction,” she whined. “It’s so boring.”

“Actually it’s a very good read. I have all the volumes.”

Iris laughed softly, her head shaking. “God, Gladdy, Mr. Scientia and you would get along so well.”

Gladio cocked his head inquisitively. Did he hear her right? “Wait, did you say ‘Scientia’?”

“Yep.”

“I work for his uncle.”

“Oh, yeah, the dying one. Well, I think he’s the only one.”

“How do you know he’s dying?”

“I help Mr. Scientia in his office sometimes. He mentioned him one day when I happened across one of his books. Did you know he was also a literature professor?”

Gladio raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I knew he was a professor, I didn’t know what kind though.”

“Yeah, he taught the same stuff as Mr. Scientia, historical fiction and how to critique it properly. Apparently he also took an interest in esoteric texts.Stuff dealing with magic and angelology. I don’t like that kind of stuff to be honest; too dark and heavy.” She shivered. 

Gladio observed the baristas puttering away behind the bar, his thoughts on Ignis and Atticus. Then he remembered the manila envelope in front of him. “Is this the stuff I asked you for about their family?”

Iris nodded quickly. She brushed her hair out of her face and pouted down at it. “Took me forever to go through all that microfiche. There’s a lot of news about them.”

“Wonder why that is?”

“When I asked the librarian, Ms. Cindy, you know the one you thought was really hot?” Gladio indeed did remember Ms. Cindy Aurum. He had gone on a few dates with her after he found her on DateMate. He liked her blonde hair and rural accent. He also liked how she kissed and wished he hadn’t ended it so suddenly. “Well, she said they’re cursed. I told her while I may believe in ghosts, I don’t believe in curses. That’s just whackadoodle shit, right?”

Gladio wasn’t so sure anymore. He merely tilted his head to the side and gave his sister a smile. “Who knows, kid. Thanks. I just feel awkward asking Atticus.”

“But you’ll have your sister dig around for information on his family.”

“Look, I did pay you for it.”

“And my bank account appreciates the money. You could’ve just asked him. A lot of that stuff is common knowledge apparently. I’ve heard some stuff about them. Mostly that they were close-knit, a little eccentric. You know, rich people weird.”

Gladio laughed at that. “Rich people weird,” he repeated. “Sounds like them. Well, I gotta get going. Atticus will be wondering where I dipped off to for so long and I have to stop at the store for him. I’ll call you to check up on you, okay?”

Gladio got up and Iris pulled him into a tight hug. “All right. Don’t wait so long and also be careful around that house.”

Gladio pulled back and looked down at his sister. “Why?”

“There’s a lot of death in their family. Murders, accidents, suicides. I don’t know. Just be careful, okay?”

“I will.”

Gladio headed to the grocery store before heading back to the house. The manila envelope sat in the passenger side of his black Mustang. A benign thing on the surface, yet he could sense something wasn’t exactly right about the contents within it. His sister’s words echoed in his mind. 

Murders, accidents, suicides. 

Atticus was in the library when Gladio returned. He was on the old landline phone talking quickly and heatedly with someone. Gladio honestly was surprised he still had a rotary phone. He thought they had gone out of fashion along with bell bottoms and radio stations. 

“I’ve tried calling you several times now! Why wouldn’t you answer? Oh, don’t give me that tosh about being busy, how much time do your classes take up honestly? Did you forget I also taught the exact same thing as you. You’re no busier than I was when I worked there. Now, look…”

He was speaking with Ignis. Gladio didn’t want to interrupt so he sat the mineral water and vegetable sticks on the desk beside Atticus’ arm. Atticus didn’t seem to notice him, which didn’t bother Gladio one bit as he snuck back out of the room. He absconded with the envelope up to his room and collapsed onto his bed. He opened up the music app on his phone and selected a playlist at random. Soon the room filled with dark bass heavy beats and he relaxed against his pillows. 

He opened the envelope and pulled out the papers that Iris had printed for him. The first one was a print out of a newspaper clipping from the April 1925 edition of the Insomnian Daily News. 

“Tragedy Strikes Scientia Family Yet Again” the headline read. He scanned the article to learn that a Caius Scientia, 66, and his wife, Alba, 60, had been killed in a train accident while abroad. They were survived by a list of family members, among them Dux Scientia, brother to Caius. Gladio wondered if Dux was Atticus’ father. 

The next page detailed the horrific falling death of Lavinia Scientia, 36, from September 2010. Gladio looked at the picture of Lavinia closely. He recognized her from the portrait of the lady and the man laughing in the sunshine. He knew her eyes were green and her hair sandy blonde. He also knew now that she had been the apparition he had seen. She was survived by her partner, Julius Caelum and son, Ignis Scientia. 

Ignis’ mother. That was his mother. 

He read the article further. “The deceased had apparently slashed her wrists before falling to her death on Taeplar Hill. Authorities say she was backing away from someone or something when she slipped. They also say that the loss of blood wasn’t what killed her, but the 80 ft. fall.” Gladio grimaced. “Wow, gory much?” 

He sat that aside and checked his bedside clock. It was only seven in the evening. “Hmm, let me go make dinner.” He swung his legs off the bed and headed down to the kitchen. As he passed the foyer he saw Atticus sitting with someone else. 

“Gladiolus, if I may have a moment!” Atticus called out before he could disappear. 

Gladio stopped and headed into the foyer. Stuffy and full of the vintage furniture Atticus favored, he often walked by this room. It seemed more like a museum than anything else. Portraits of long dead Scientias gazed out with hollow eyes and Gladio felt on display suddenly. 

Gladio’s breath caught in his chest when he saw who was Atticus’ guest.

Ignis peered at him with unblinking emerald eyes, his full mouth a line of disapproval. He sat ramrod straight in the green velvet armchair, his arms tight to his body and hands clasped before him. He looked every inch the academic; thick knit gray sweater over a white button up, plaid green and gray trousers and black leather shoes. His dark rimmed glasses sat perched on his sharp nose and he looked at Gladio as if assessing his worth. His sandy hair was brushed across his forehead in a simple style. The way his shoulders were set, Gladio figured the guy had a fear of relaxing around anyone.  
“Gladiolus, this is my oft-spoken of wayward nephew. Ignis, this is Gladiolus Amicitia, the young man Argentum Care for the Aged sent me. Prompto spoke very highly of him. The best the agency has to offer, he said.” Atticus gave Gladio a reassuring smile that Gladio returned. 

Ignis sniffled, pushed his glasses up his nose and looked away from Gladiolus. “Knowing Prompto, I’m sure he says that about all his staff.”

“My sister has your class.” Gladio blurted. “She also said she helps you out in your office sometimes.”

Ignis turned his cold green gaze to Gladio and Gladio felt like he was drowning in a deep, weedy lake. The undertow suffocating him and pulling him further into the abyss, the void calling for him. “Your sister is Iris?”

Gladio cleared his throat to clear the sensation away. “Uh…yeah.”

“I see,” was all Ignis said before turning his attention back to his uncle. “I do not know if I will be staying for dinner, uncle.”

“I insist. Gladio is a wonderful cook. Not as great as you, but I have yet to starve.” Atticus gave a hollow laugh. The two younger men shifted uncomfortably.

Ignis sighed. “If you insist then I will join you.”

Gladio wrung his hands together. When had they become so sweaty? “A-are there any dietary needs that you have, Ignis.”

“Mr. Scientia. I do not share my uncle’s love of informality and no. No dietary needs that you need to worry yourself with.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry. I’ll go start dinner then.” Gladio hurried off to the kitchen. He had never felt so out of his depth ever in his life. No one made him feel like a small child, not even his military father with his strict rules and stern hand. Not even the boys who taunted him when he wasn’t as bulky as he was now. 

Only that man in the foyer. That man, with his refined speech and expensive clothes from a family that many thought were cursed, had made him feel like a child. A drowned child. 

Gladio ladled a large helping of steaming beef stew into his bowl. “I decided to become a carer after my mom got sick.” Gladio had finished recounting his choice of career to Ignis, who continued to stare at him as if he were a foreign object. It was as if he felt that Gladio was a thing that did not belong in his uncle’s home. In his home. 

He took a drink of the red wine Gladio had brought up from the cellar, licking some of it off his upper lip. “Hm, so you chose a life of servitude instead of knowledge. How noble.” There was an edge of sarcasm to his words and Gladio felt his skin tingle with anger. 

Instead, he took several deep breaths and said, “It is noble. I enjoy what I do. Caring for those who need someone isn’t a bad thing. I mean, it’s not pouring over literary works on a daily basis and running students through the mill until they collapse, but it’s something. Beats a blank, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Ignis groused as he poured himself more wine. His mood shifted when he angled his face towards his uncle. “Uncle, do you still have that copy of your criticisms on Henruit? Iris and I could not locate it the other day in my office.”

Atticus, who had been watching the banter between the two men, made a startled noise. “Oh, yes, I do. It’s in the library. I have several copies. How many did you need?”

“Only one. I must have lent mine out to a student or a colleague.”

“I’ll go get it right now,” Atticus said as he wheeled out of the dining room.

Gladio didn’t want him to go. Being left alone with Ignis was unnerving. “So um…you grew up here?”

“Yes.” Irritation in that deep, melodic voice. 

Gladio shook off the flush that was creeping up the back of his neck. He was not about to be aroused by this jerk. “Has that angel painting always been at the top of the stairs?”

“Angel painting? What angel painting?”

“The one of the seraphim? Your uncle told me it had been in the attic at one point. Didn’t you see it when you came in?” Gladio fiddled with his napkin, folding and unfolding it. 

Ignis shook his head, disgust on his features. The mere act of having a conversation with Gladio proving to be too much for him it seemed. “No. The only painting that sits there is of my great-great-great grandparents.”

“Oh, I see.” He looked up and their eyes met. 

There was that feeling of drowning again. The water was so deep, so cold and the weeds were clinging, pulling him to his death. His lungs fit to burst, he tried to kick his way up to the surface. Moonlight glimmering across the water, so close. So, so close. There was something else there in the cool darkness. Something with wings and hollow sockets where eyes should have been. That darkness would not let him go.

“Here it is, my boy.” Atticus’ voice cut through the gloom and Gladio was brought back to the dining room table, Ignis shooting daggers at him and the warmth of the candles on the table. 

Atticus handed Ignis the book he had asked for. Ignis ran a hand lovingly down the burgundy leather spine, reading the title to himself and patting it as if it were particularly good pet. “Thank you, uncle.”

“Of course.”

When Ignis had finally left them, Gladio let out a sigh of relief and headed to bed. As he stared up at the ceiling, the house mumbled and gently quaked. It settled finally and Gladio thought of green eyes and full lips, of how it would be to kiss Ignis. He wondered, as he gripped his hardness, what it would be like to sleep with him. Would his kisses be as cold or would he be warm. Warm, wet, and alive.

After that night, Gladio tried to put Ignis out of his mind. It was hard to he discovered. Everything in the house reminded Gladio of him. Even Atticus, who had the same sharp yet sad green eyes. Eyes that had seen things it probably should not have. So at least to divert his attention, Gladio did small projects around the house for Atticus that he could no longer do due to inaccessibility. He tended to the overgrown, sprawling backyard garden along with Nyx, the local gardener who came by biweekly to trim the hedges and mow the lawn. He ran errands downtown for Atticus and he even remembered to call his dad and Iris. 

Iris had been chattering about some girl she had met at a bar when suddenly she gasped. “Mr. Scientia told me he met you!” She squealed into the phone. 

Gladio held his phone away from his ear. Atticus looked up from his evening reading to see where the noise was coming from. “Don’t have to yell,” Gladio warned.

Iris huffed. “Sorry,” she said, a hint of a skulk in her voice. “Anyway, that’s so cool you two met. What did you think of him?”

“Pretentious ass.” Atticus snickered. Gladio’s ears turned red and he hurried out of the living room. 

“Ah, come on, Gladdy. He’s really cool once you get to know him. He said he was going to be spending a weekend there. He’s going to do some writing for a horror novel he’s working on.”

Gladio glanced out to the driveway where his Mustang sat getting pelted by cold rain. “What kind of horror?”

“What?” Gladio could hear Iris fighting with her dog, Umbra. “What do you mean? Stop that, Umbra! Put that down!”

Gladio ticked off with his fingers as he spoke. “Is it cosmic, psychological, or slasher horror? There’s more but that’s the ones I’m thinking of right now.” He twisted a piece of his dark brown hair around his finger, watching the ends fray. Time for a haircut. He made a mental note to do that in the morning. 

Iris’ voice was shrill. “I don’t know. I think cosmic because he mentioned something about angels and eldritch abominations. Isn’t that what cosmic is? I was barely listening, really.”

“That’s, yeah, that’s some of it. I can tell you weren’t paying attention.” At the mention of angels, Gladio wondered if the angel painting had returned. It was gone when he checked last Saturday and Atticus didn’t mention it. He still wasn’t used to this “the house does that sometimes”.

“Hey, Gladdy, I’m going now. Talcott wants me to go with him to the grocery store. Weekly run.”

“You guys go every week?” Gladio screwed his face up in disbelief. He only did the shopping for Atticus and him every other week. 

He heard the heavy sigh in his sister’s voice. “Yes,” she drawled. “Talcott eats a lot.”

“All right, well I’ll talk to you later. Love you, sprout.”

“Love you too, giant.”

He ended the call and returned to the living room. Atticus was still sitting there reading, his glasses sliding further down his nose. “How is your sister?”

“She’s good,” Gladio replied as he sat in the armchair across from Atticus. The television was on the news and Gladio was glad that Atticus had it muted. The news had been bad these last few days. “She told me Ignis was coming for the weekend.”

Atticus looked up and nodded. “Yes, that is correct. He told me next weekend. I meant to let you know.”

“It’s all right, sir.”

“You know, Gladiolus, you have been a huge help around here. I hired you as my carer however you have done work that normally cleaning staff perform. I do appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. I like the extra work.”

Atticus looked down at the book in his lap. “The painting moved. I’m sure you noticed.”

Gladio turned to Atticus, tried to gauge his mood. The older man’s brow was furrowed, more lines creasing his forehead. “Yeah, I did.”

“This house is too restless. I fear that when Ignis stays it won’t be any better.”

Gladio had a hunch he was right. The house had been shifting more, it’s foundation creaking and the walls feeling warm to the touch. One of the rooms, the bathroom he never used by the drawing room, had begun to leak from the ceiling. The liquid was viscous and dark. He didn’t want to find out what it was. Whatever was happening to it wasn’t natural. He wondered just what the Scientias were truly hiding.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly the secrets are seeing the light and Gladio is drawn more and more to Ignis. The warnings are not loud enough, but the house and its inhabitants will not go unheeded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday ya girl will learn the difference between "it's" and "its". Someday. Apparently not any of these days. lol.
> 
> Firstly, thank you to those of you who have left kudos and comments. They are truly appreciated! I am blown by the reception to this work and let me tell you, I am grateful. I actually wrote chapter two when I wrote one. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always kudos and comments are appreciated. ♥
> 
> 4/9/20- Updated and edited to tighten up the plot, fix mechanics/grammar, added a bit more, all that razzmatazz.

Atticus had informed Gladio that his actual housekeeper, a lady named Camelia Claustra, would be returning shortly. She had been away for three months to visit her wife, children, and grandchildren in Altissia. Gladio inquired if this meant he would no longer be needed. Atticus had fallen into a fit of the giggles, which unnerved Gladio. He didn’t think people like Atticus actually giggled. 

“Camellia prefers to be hands-off. Her priority is the house, not it’s inhabitants.” He lit his pipe and turned his wheelchair towards the unruly garden. The fountain had been cleared of all the fallen leaves and, even though it was nearing November, still ran with water. “She barely even wants to come back,” he added. 

Gladio sat Atticus’ paper and lunch down on the desk behind him. “Why is that?”

Atticus gestured vaguely around him. “Everything about us screams cursed, she once said. She only stays on because I pay her well and she gets to visit her family back in Altissia whenever she likes.”

Gladio enjoyed hearing about Atticus’ life before he got sick. He wiped down the mantle, careful not to disturb the placement of the photographs. He gently dusted off one of Lavinia and Julius with a young Ignis. “Did you take your medicine today?”

Atticus snuffed out his pipe. “I did. Would you mind getting the room ready for Ignis? It’ll be the second one on the left upstairs.”

“The one beside mine?”

”That’s the one.” Atticus ran a hand over his thinning gray hair. “Ignis will be down this weekend. I asked if he was bringing Aranea and he told me no. She’s busy with work, he said. Always bloody busy. I don’t know how they find time to be a couple.”

Gladio listened to Atticus ramble on about Ignis and his love life, happy to focus on something not mysterious or dour. 

The room Ignis would be staying in had been Atticus’ old room. It still maintained traces of its former occupant, from the framed old maps of Lucis to the black velvet smoking jacket hanging up behind the door. Gladio had helped to clean it and prep it for Ignis’ weekend stay, a task he did not enjoy even though his sister was helping him. 

“You’re so lucky,” she had gushed as she set about fitting the crisp white linen sheets to the mattress. Gladio held back a laugh as the sheet snapped off, hitting her squarely in her face. She spluttered and tried again. “You could help, Gladdy!”

Gladio did. He pulled the side closest to him over and tucked it under. Would this even be up to the guy’s standard? Shit, he honestly dreaded the verbal beating he would take if it wasn’t. 

“A whole weekend with Mr. Scientia in the house! You two can talk literature! Talk criticism! Get to know one another and become friends! You need more friends.”

Gladio had been content with Iris not meddling in his nonexistent social life. Nothing ever stayed the same. “I doubt he’ll want to speak to me after the way he treated me the last time.”

Iris puffed her cheeks out, looking like one of her moogle plushies that she collected religiously. “Oh, don’t hold that against him. He was probably nervous! You’re intimidating with your height and your giant bird tattoo.”

Gladio rubbed at one of the black inked feathers on his arm. “Atticus wasn’t intimidated by me.”

Iris waved a hand at him. “Anyhow, just try to be nice.”

“Tell him that.” Gladio gave his sister a condescending grin. Iris tossed a pillow at him and flopped down into the leather armchair beside the window. 

Gladio knew she could see down into the garden below. It was a sprawling thing full of weeds, wildflowers and ivy. He had tried to help Nyx whack it into shape, however they both agreed it had been a losing battle. The garden came out victorious and therefore it resembled a cottage garden as opposed to an estate one. He wondered what had caught her gaze though besides the dying rosebushes. She looked a little unsettled. “Hey, Gladdy,” she pointed to something. He walked over to her and looked out. “Has that always been there?”

In the middle of the garden was a fountain, Gladio knew that much. That wasn’t the unusual thing; the thing that put a sense of dread into him was the angel statue sitting atop it. Gladio had walked past that fountain numerous times and knew for certain that the angel had not been there. It looked like every depiction of an angel he had seen. Its wings were large, carved out of stone, its eyes downcast and hands folded in benediction. It was the exact opposite of the angel in the reappearing portrait. 

Gladio shook his head. “Nope.”

“Hmm.” Iris closed her eyes and turned away from the window. Gladio continued to stare, he could no longer not believe that something sinister was going on. 

Angel statues appearing in the fountain were the least of his concerns, to be honest. Gladio had to finish tidying up. Camelia hadn’t arrived yet and so he was still doing double duty as carer and maid. As he headed towards the bathroom to wash his hands he spotted something out of the ordinary. 

That room had not been there five minutes ago, Gladio thought as he noticed the green door. It was the same beautiful shade of dark emerald green as the velvet chairs in the foyer. He tried the crystal knob, surprised when it clicked open. He stepped inside and was immediately hit with a wave of something cloying and strong. It reminded him of his mother’s favorite perfume, a heady blend of black opium, vetivert, and honeysuckles. It smelled like the inside of a church. 

It was a surprisingly empty room. No furnishings, no paintings. No, there was a painting. One painting. In the corner, lying against one of the wood paneled walls. It was covered by a white cloth, yet Gladio knew what it was before he reached out to pull the cloth away. 

The angel was before him, painted in oils and just as menacing as it had been when he first laid eyes on it. Framed by a gilded, dusty frame, the angel unseeing and malevolent in its posture. He took in the details of it, noting how the angel’s wrists were shackled as were its feet. It was standing over two small people. Gladio had missed that before. He knelt down to take a closer look. As he did the door slammed shut behind him.  
“Shit. No, no, no.”

He tried pulling and pushing it to no avail. He slammed his body against the solid wood, hoping against hope that his large frame would make the door yield. Behind him he heard the flapping of great wings and the scent from before grew stronger. 

“Don’t turn around,”a masculine voice whispered by his ear. He heeded that disembodied voice. He tried in vain to force the door open. He knew it was behind him, felt its looming presence. The walls of the room were slowly moving in as well and Gladio knew he would probably die if he didn’t get out of there in time.

As he made for last push against the door, the hand of the angel reaching out to him and a croaking noise emitting from its throat, the door flew open. Gladio collided with Ignis and they both fell to the carpeted floor. 

He made a dozen apologies as he stood up. He turned around to see that the wall was solid, the painting of a landscape back where it had been before. No green door, no angel. He felt Ignis’ eyes on him. 

“Sorry about that.” 

“You’re like a bloody bull. Please do be careful and what were you even doing?”

Gladio pointed at the wall. “There was a door here and it led to a room with the angel painting.”

Ignis cocked his head to the side. He scoffed. “That painting again? Maybe you should ask my uncle for some time off. I’ll be here this weekend, so you can just go visit your family or something.”

Gladio regained his composure. He straightened up to his normal height, towering well above Ignis. He noticed how the smaller man shrunk away from him. “No, it’ll be fine. Also, I know what I saw and you know what, Ignis.” He said his name with a bite to it, catching the flicker of something behind those green eyes. “You need to be nice to me. I’m doing something you refuse to do. Running away from whatever problems you had with your uncle or your family won’t fix them.”

There was the shadow of a smirk on those elegant features. It slid away, his mouth falling into a scowl.“What do you know,” Ignis snapped and he headed down the hall to his room. 

“I know that something is in this damn house and you’re a fucking coward,” Gladio spat. He hadn’t meant to say it. Yet, after his ordeal he could no longer keep quiet. 

Ignis halted in his tracks. Slowly, he turned on Gladio and there was rage in his eyes. He clenched his fists by his sides. “How dare you?” Ignis hissed out as he stormed back towards Gladio. “How dare you insinuate that I am a coward? Know your goddamned place.”

Gladio stood his ground. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. He normally did not use his height to his advantage, however he was sick of Ignis’ attitude. “I know my place, Ignis, and it’s with your uncle, taking care of him. Now if you’ll excuse me I hear him calling me.”

Gladio turned on his heel and headed down the stairs. Atticus had indeed been calling him from the kitchen. Iris was there with him, sitting at the scrubbed wood table that had once been the servants’ dining table. 

She glanced up when Gladio entered the room. “Did you see him, Gladdy?”

Atticus surveyed Gladio’s face. “I believe he did, Miss Iris.” He patted Gladio’s arm. “Have a beer and a seat. Lunch can wait.”

Gladio happy obliged his boss. He grabbed a cold one, popped the top and sat down across from Iris. “He’s a thorn.”

Atticus wheeled over to them and placed his wrinkly hands upon the table. “He gets it honestly,” he began, “this family is not the friendliest lot.”

Gladio waved his beer in Atticus’ direction. “What about you?”

“When I was younger I was horrid. I am not the exception.”

Iris leaned forward, her elbows on the table. Gladio could just hear their mother’s gentle voice chiding her to not be so rude. “Maybe he’s under a lot of stress. There’s a lot going on at home. He told me that Aranea may be pregnant.”

At her words, Atticus paled. “P-Pregnant?”

Iris finished off the tea that had been in front of her and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “He didn’t find out until Monday. Told me she was nine weeks along.”

Gladio couldn’t help but notice the reaction to these words Atticus had. “I need to speak with him then.” Atticus went out of the room and they heard him clearly shout for Ignis. He came back with Ignis trailing behind him.

Ignis gave a writhing glance in Gladio’s direction. When he spotted Iris, he looked delighted. “Hello, Iris.”

Iris waved, bouncing slightly in her seat. “Hi, Mr. Scientia.”

Ignis turned his attention back to his uncle, who was furiously wiping his wire rim glasses off. “Yes?”

“Is Aranea pregnant?”

Ignis’ face fell. He wouldn’t meet any of their gazes, his eyes firmly planted on his spotless Chelsea boots. “I was going to tell you in private.”

Iris felt horrible. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Scientia. I told him.”

“No need to apologize, Iris. It’s all right or as the kids say ‘all good’.”

Gladio gave an ugly chuckle. “Ugh. Please.”

Ignis ignored him. “Yes, she is pregnant.”

“This news is…most distressing.”

“Why?” Iris squawked. “Babies are adorable!” 

Atticus gave her a mournful smile. “I agree, Iris. However, I don’t believe Ignis is truly ready for that responsibility.”

Gladio finished off his beer. He got up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I’m going into the garden for some fresh air.”

As he made to exit the kitchen, Ignis’ voice made him stop. “I think I’ll join you.”

They walked through the garden in silence. To Gladio’s surprise, Ignis walked close to him. Their arms brushed and Ignis didn’t move away from him as if scalded. When they approached the fountain, Ignis broke the silence. 

“He has every reason to be upset with me.”

Gladio shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pockets. It was a chilly October morning and he wished he had remembered to grab his coat. “You’d think he’d be excited that the family line would continue. New life and all that jazz,” he said as he picked a leaf off the fountain’s edge. The benevolent angel was still in its silent benediction. 

Ignis’ face was upturned towards the angel. “In our family a child is not a gift. It just means the cycle will continue until that thing gets what it wants.”

“Thing?”

“The angel. The one in the portrait.”

“So you’re now telling me you knew what I was talking about?” Gladio was exhausted, scared and angry. 

Ignis’ ears reddened. “Yes,” he answered, “I knew exactly what you were on about. It was better for me to not admit it. What good would it have done you?”

Gladio let out a low growl. “It would have let me know I wasn’t losing my shit, you dick!”

Ignis faced him, his eyes glassy. “You think I’m a dick? My uncle hired you. Instead of just dying quietly, he wanted a goddamned audience. My whole family tree is full of assholes, Gladiolus dear. My uncle is no bloody fucking saint.” Ignis sat down on the fountain’s edge, his hands dangling between his long legs. Gladio kept his eyes on him. He was as annoying as he was intriguing and handsome. 

Gladio sat down next him. “I never said he was. Why is your family like this?”

Ignis raised his head, his eyes locked on the massive, looming manor before them. From the driveway it looked like a typical large manor style home, however the garden offered a more clear picture of just how huge the place truly was. In the gray morning light, it reminded Gladio of the haunted houses he had read about in his favorite horror novels; a place so rooted in its past that the house itself was also a ghost.

To Gladio, the Scientias’ ancestral home wore its ghosts like a heavy bejeweled necklace. Each dangling jewel a dead relative that could not move on or would not for some reason. Gladio wondered if the reason had far too many wings and eyes, gnarled hands reaching beyond the ether to snatch and hurt.

Ignis’ voice sounded far off, as if he wasn’t truly present. “Gladiolus, we are cursed to our core. You know the house is haunted. Now imagine being haunted yourself? In your bones, your blood, you feel the ghosts of your relatives. Those sacrificed to sate the hunger of divinity. Imagine having to bury your parents before you turn 18. The looks people in town give you because they know the whispers; someone made a deal and now that family has to pay.”

Something crashed through the under growth and they both jumped. A fox scurried out onto the path, a rabbit trapped in its jaws. It noticed them, its beautiful amber eyes catching the sun. It flicked its tail and was gone. 

“An omen?” Gladio asked. 

Ignis stood up, brushing off his black slacks. “No. Just an animal hunting. Not every thing around here is an ill omen, dear heart.” He walked away, heading further into the garden. Gladio got up and followed. “Have you ever wondered why this house sits so far away from the main road?”

Ignis stopped and waited for an answer. “I take your silence to mean you never did, so I’ll tell you. When Naveus Scientia founded this estate, he had left Tenebrae with nothing but the shirt on his back. He was dirt poor.” Ignis continued. “His wife and him knew that Lucis was home to holy things, both benevolent and the opposite. Instead of them working for what they wanted, they decided to summon a divine being. However, an angel in captivity is always going to turn against its original nature. It will twist itself into its opposite and when that happens it grows hungry, it gets restless.”

“Where does this angel reside? I’ve never seen it around the house unless you count my near run in with it upstairs.”

“The painting is not where it resides, if you’re thinking that.” Ignis chuckled. “It’s under the house. There is a trapdoor in the basement that leads down a little ways. It is shackled there by words and promises. Nothing is truly binding it to us. Yet it remains there, waiting and culling us when it doesn’t get what it wants.”

“It made your family wealthy.”

“Not willingly, I am certain. Angels do not deal in the material and they don’t grant wishes. This one may have given my great-great-great grandfather knowledge, which Naveus may have used to gain power and wealth. Instead of freeing the angel afterwards, he kept it.”

“Why do it though? Why damn the whole family to dying horribly and then being trapped in that house forever when they do die?”

“Greed, my dear. Simple as that If it works why stop?”

Gladio squinted at Ignis, who was cleaning his glasses. “Why are you being nice to me? You were at my throat the last time we saw one another.”

“You are such an inquisitive man.”

“Answer me.”

“Because we do not have to be enemies. I should not have been so rude, however that is my way of protecting myself. Protecting my heart, as it were. Aranea always gets on me about it, says I should be nicer. She is right.”

Gladio’s phone vibrated in his back pocket. He checked to see it who was. “Iris.” Ignis nodded at him to take it. “Hey, sprout. Yeah, we’re in the garden. Ignis just wanted some fresh air, we’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Ignis was leaning down towards the pond, watching the fish flit about. He looked over his shoulder at Gladio. “Checking up on us?”

Gladio jerked his thumb back at the house. “They’re making lunch. Iris just wanted to make sure we’re okay. Are you okay?”

Ignis shoulders shook with laughter. “I will never be okay, but thank you for asking. We should head back before they send a search party.” 

As they walked back Gladio felt as if they were being watched. 

After lunch, Ignis went to sit in the conservatory to write. Iris headed home even though she really wanted to stay so she could spend more time with Gladio and Atticus, who she had grown fond of in such a short time. Atticus patted her hand and told her she was welcome to come by whenever she wanted. Gladio saw her off and went back inside. He made sure to set aside Atticus’ evening medications and set an alarm on his phone to make sure he gave them to him. He headed towards the conservatory. 

Soft music was coming from a small bluetooth speaker sitting on the table beside Ignis’ laptop. He wasn’t typing at the moment, instead he was on his phone. He motioned for Gladio to sit. 

“Just checking in with Aranea.”

“She worried about you?”

Ignis smirked. “No, just likes to make sure I’m not getting into any undue trouble with strapping carers.”

“So I’m strapping now?”

“Did I say you?” Ignis chortled and returned back to his laptop. “Ah, you are something, I hope you know.”

“I thought you hated me the night I met you.”

“I’m not used to outsiders getting close to our family. Aranea slipped through and I honestly thought she’d be the last. When a person does get close, we get worried. Rightfully so.”

Gladio admired the view from the conservatory windows that looked out onto the lake the house sat alongside. “I mean, maybe the whole haunted thing is sexy to some folks.”

Ignis typed away, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “I guess so, yet I think there is a lack of self-preservation. At least with Aranea there is. You want to help my uncle ease into death and he could not have picked a better person.”

“Did you hit your head or something?”

Ignis gave him a sharp look. “I told you there is no need for us to be enemies. I would rather be your friend.”

“You called me strapping.”

“You are a nuisance.”

“I try.”

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes before Ignis got up. He stretched his arms above his head, his sweater rising up to reveal his smooth abs and Gladio felt his face flush. It had been so long since he had been with anybody. One couldn’t really bring someone back to their employer’s for a hook-up. 

Ignis noticed and licked his lips. “You are staring, Gladiolus.”

“You don’t realize the effect you have on people do you?”

Ignis adjusted his sweater and sat beside Gladio on the wicker sofa. “To be honest? I do not. I do not think of myself as conventionally attractive. My nose is sharp, I have pock marks from terrible acne, and I cannot grow a decent beard.”

Gladio’s laugh shook the sofa. “For being so damned smart, you’re stupid.”

Ignis gave him an incredulous look. “I take it you are either mocking me or you think I am attractive.”

Once his laughter subsided, he maneuvered himself so that his left leg was up on the seat and he was facing Ignis. He leaned forward and placed a large hand on Ignis’ face. “I think you’re attractive. Can I kiss you?”

Ignis opened his mouth. A breathy sigh escaped him instead of words. He closed his eyes and tried again. “I have a partner, Gladiolus.”

“Do you love her?” Gladio felt reckless. All the warnings in his head and the words that both Scientias had told him were screaming in his head. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the man sitting across from him and how he just wanted to kiss him. 

“Gladiolus, your eyes.”

Gladio blinked twice, confused. What was wrong with his eyes. Ignis grabbed his phone, found the camera app and held it up so he could see himself. “Fuck!” His normally amber eyes had gone completely black. “What the hell?”

Ignis put both of his hands on his shoulders. “Let him go. Get out of him this instant.”

Gladio didn’t feel different. Then he felt something shift inside him. The hand on the side of Ignis’ face slid down his neck and slowly gripped his throat. “No,” he croaked through the haze. “No, what am I doing?”

Ignis kept speaking as Gladio sunk down into the fog in his mind. Even as Gladio’s grip tightened, he kept telling whatever it was that had Gladio to let him go. He didn’t stop until they both blacked out. 

Gladio woke beside Ignis in the conservatory. The wicker of the chair was digging uncomfortably into the side of his face. He tried to get his bearings, trying to recall what had happened. The sky outside was pitch black and he cursed as he checked the time. Then he remembered. 

Ignis’ head was lolling against the cushion and Gladio recalled with chilling clarity what he had done. “Fuck.” He knelt down beside Ignis and slapped his face. “Ignis, hey! Ignis, please don’t be dead.”

Green eyes fluttered open, followed by a low groan. “Never seen that happen before,” he said hoarsely. He caught sight of the lawn beyond the windows. “How long were we out?”

Gladio answered slowly. “About five hours, I think. I am so fucking sorry. What happened to me? I wasn’t in control and…”

“Possession, albeit remotely. It’s never done that before though. It must be very mad that I’m here.” Ignis rubbed his throat gingerly. “Let’s go check on my uncle and then I’m going to need some tea and lemon.”

They found Atticus in the living room watching a rerun of an old sitcom he enjoyed. He assured that he was fine, had taken his evening pills, and couldn’t understand why they both looked so pale. They silently agreed to not tell him what had occurred. They left him to his show and went to the kitchen. Gladio put on the kettle while Ignis rummaged for tea, honey and a lemon. They sat down across from one another at the table. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“As I said that was a possession. That was not you, Gladiolus, so please do not feel bad.”

Gladio put two cups and saucers down between them. “Still though. I could have killed you.”

“You didn’t though. You just rendered me unconscious.”

Gladio poured the water and then sat down with a loud sigh. “And you said it’s never happened before. So why now?”

Ignis doctored up his tea. He took a sip of the steaming brew. “Who knows why it does what it does?” He rubbed his throat. “You have quite the grip.”

Gladio hid his face in his hand. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

Ignis’ eyes crinkled when he gave a genuine smile. “Not every moment of my life is doom and gloom. Besides you were going to kiss me and I have been so curious as to how your lips would feel.”

“You have a girlfriend remember.”

Before Ignis could say anything Atticus entered the room. “Came to wish you two a good night.”

“Same to you, uncle.”

“Good night, Atticus.”

Atticus rolled away leaving them with their tension hanging over them. Ignis cleared his throat. “I used to love her,” he whispered. “Now, I don’t know. This child may be our last chance to mend things, however I believe she won’t want to keep it. Not after I tell her.”

“You never told her.”

“There was never a right time. Well, is there really ever a right time?” The house creaked around them ominously as if answering him. “The ghosts will be roaming soon. I believe it best if we go to bed.”

He got up and placed their cups and saucers into the sink. Gladio knew he shouldn’t, but he was so lovely. He stood behind Ignis and put his arms around his waist. “I remember asking for the kiss.”

Ignis turned around in his arms. Gladio leaned down and brushed his nose against his. Their lips touched briefly before an unholy screech drove them apart. Ignis grabbed his chest and crumpled against the sink. 

“That would be my mother and it seems she doesn’t approve.”

Gladio backed away quickly, his hands up. “I can take a hint. Good night, Ignis.”

“Good night, Gladio. Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Scientias are a line of hot messes. Just...whew...I feel bad for them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The water rose around him dark and freezing even though it was warm. The hands holding his ankles pulled him down into the darkness. The thing had its mouth open wide and he could hear it speaking to him in his mind. 
> 
> “Deny me what is mine. I will take what is mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the reception this story has gotten. I appreciate it so much! ♥  
> As always kudos and comments are appreciated. ♥ Enjoy!

Ignis sat on the bed, his phone lay abandoned by his knee and he was still working on his novel. He saw the notification letting him know he had seven messages from Aranea. The first one was the one that ensured he would not check the others. 

“I think I’m going to have an abortion and you can’t change my mind. Would you even try though?”

No, he knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to bring a child into the world because of his family. Her reasoning was because they weren’t ready. They never would be. They had been arguing so much that Ignis was sure that the house was influencing them. Perhaps it was or it was just his failings as a person. That was something he always had to deal with. He could only blame the house and the angel for so long. The house wasn’t entirely blameless. It had drove his partners mad or simply away and was one of the reasons he could not maintain a relationship for long. Aranea had been the longest. Seven months and they were still together. Barely.

“I figured you’d like him. He reminds me of you.” Ignis said out loud. “You definitely don’t like Aranea. Maybe there’s a bit of grandfather in her. You never liked grandfather.”

Lavinia hovered by the lamp on the vanity. She held her hand out to him and Ignis gazed at her sadly. “Ignis,” she moaned. “My Ignis.”

“Mother, I’m not a child anymore and you honestly need to stop protecting me. That’s how you ended up in the mess you’re in now. It wasn’t even you it had chosen.” He got off the bed, walking slowly towards her. He knew that sometimes she would remain solid enough for him to touch her. He missed her so much. 

“My precious boy. I bled for you.” The house groaned and the walls pulsed slightly. Ignis put his hand against the wall nearest him. It was warm to the touch and something moved beneath it. 

“I know, mother. It was never meant to be you, though. You took my death and now I die every ten years because that thing wants me. Only me.”

She brushed her cold, dead fingers along his cheek and Ignis shivered. She reeked of grave dirt and roses. “I love you, mum. I miss you.” He took her hand, grasped it tightly to keep her grounded. To keep her there with him for as long as he could. 

She smiled, tears streaming down her sunken face. “I love you, too. Please, don’t drag him into our tangled web. He is too nice and this place, that thing, will tear him apart.”

Ignis closed his eyes. “I’m not falling in love, mum.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “You still can’t tell when your heart is no longer your own.”

Something in the house screamed and the window flew open. Lavinia looked towards it, her hand falling away. “I have to leave.”

“Good bye, mum,” Ignis said as he watched her vanish. He touched the spot where she had been. He closed the window and shouted. “I am home, you rotten piece of shit! You either can kill me now or you can go fuck yourself.”

Ignis knew to be careful what he asked for. 

Gladio was dreaming. 

He was standing on the back veranda with three teenaged boys. He recognized teenage Ignis by his glasses and hair. The other two boys, he wasn’t so sure of. Wait. The blonde was his current boss, Prompto Argentum. He was a chubby boy with glasses and a soft smile that he kept casting to the other boy, a black haired youth with blue eyes that caught the porch light as they stood under it. 

He knew they shouldn’t be outside, but the adults had shooed them out of the room. They had “important” business to attend to and the children would just get in the way. So, the boys had ran outside even when the housekeeper had told them not to. 

The evening air was warm and Gladio followed the boys down to the water’s edge. The black haired boy was smoking. He passed it to Ignis, who took a long drag off it before handing it to Prompto, who didn’t take a hit. 

“I’m good,” Prompto squeaked. 

“Suit yourself.” Ignis replied as he handed the cigarette back to the black haired boy. “Here, Noct.”

Noct took it and took another hearty pull before stomping it out in the grass. “You think they’ll even notice?” Noct had begun to take off his shoes. Gladio realized they were by the lake. 

Ignis held his middle finger up at the house, aiming for the upper floors where the adults had congregated. “I doubt it.” Teenage Ignis was nothing like his older counterpart. Gladio wondered what had made him change. “They’re too busy with their ‘important business’.” 

Prompto removed his glasses and shirt. He placed his clothing between Noct’s and Ignis’. “What do you think it is?” 

“I try to stay out of their way,” Ignis said as kicked off his sneakers. 

Noct shrugged. “Figured you may have heard something that we didn’t.”

Ignis pulled off his shirt, tossing it to the grass. “Fuck them and whatever it is they’re doing in the Green Room.”

“You have a name for it?” Noct gawked at him.

Ignis rolled his eyes. “Dad said because the door is green it’s the Green Room. He gave it the bloody name, not me.”

Gladio tried to remove his own clothes then realized he was not actually there. He could feel the night around him though, feel the sweet heat of summer and smell the heady scent of honeysuckles and roses. He watched as they raced towards the water, splashing as they went out to the middle. Gladio sensed something near by. They were in danger. He wanted to warn them but he knew they wouldn’t hear them. He saw Ignis go under, heard Noct’s and Prompto’s laughter turn into panic jabbering and then he heard the shouting, the screaming. He heard the roaring. Dark and dreadful coming from all around them. 

The water rose around him dark and freezing even though it was warm. The hands holding his ankles pulled him down into the darkness. The thing had its mouth open wide and he could hear it speaking to him in his mind. 

“Deny me what is mine. I will take what is mine.”

From far away someone shouted. 

Gladio sat up quickly. Someone was in fact shouting and now they sounded like they were suffocating. He scrambled out of bed, grabbing his robe and slipping a little as he raced out of the door. The noises were coming from Ignis’ room. He pushed the door open to find Ignis suspended in the middle of the room, he neck bent at an awkward angle. He was gurgling as if he were drowning. Drowning, Gladio thought. 

He didn’t know what he should do. He reached a hand out only to jerk it back as if he had been shocked. “Dammit! Ignis! Ignis!”

Ignis continued to be trapped in his weird limbo. Then suddenly his body fell to the floor and he cursed loudly. 

Gladio stood in the doorway, holding his breath for fear of breaking whatever spell was hovering over them. Ignis was soaking wet, his normally well groomed hair plastered to his forehead. His pajamas dripping. He raised his head and gave Gladio a half-hearted smile. 

“You were drowning.” Gladio kept his voice low. He knew Atticus’ room was downstairs, too far for him to hear them. He just didn’t want to take any chances that he had heard the commotion. 

Ignis rolled his head on his shoulders. “You’re more observant than I gave you credit for. You weren’t supposed to know that, but yes. I drowned.”

“You didn’t leave your room though. I didn’t hear anyone going out.”

“No, you are correct again. It happens every ten years and apparently since it missed me this summer, it felt now was as good a time. It wants to take what it was…denied.”

Gladio heard the distant calls of a woman, shouting at someone. “No, not my son! Not my child! He’s my only child, please!” 

He understood. He was seeing Ignis’ death.

“When I looked at you the first time I met you, I was you. I was drowning. Before I came in here I was dreaming about you, about you dying.”

Ignis got up off the floor, a puddle under him forming fast. “You seem to have some gift in which you saw what happened to me. I was promised to the angel as a sacrifice. The one in the painting, the one my family made a deal with long ago. I don’t think the angel even knows what the deal was for anymore. Its mind is twisted by its captivity and its lack of sustenance. You see, I was to be its vessel. It needed a host and my mother gave it one, only to take her own life.”

“I bled for you,” Gladio murmured.

Ignis dropped his gaze to the floor. “Indeed she did. She thought by killing herself, she could kill it. The joke was on her though, it could not be killed through that method and so it pushed her to her death. Or at least had my father do the deed. Gladio. Sweet, naive Gladio. You are in the presence of a deeply cursed family. On our last two family members, unless my girlfriend doesn’t abort the child she carries.” Ignis grabbed a towel and rubbed vigorously at his hair. “Our generational curse is not just your regular trauma passed along through flesh and blood. It’s that and also having an angel held captive and then corrupting your family tree with its need. It is the void yawning menacingly at the end of the tunnel.”

Ignis tossed the towel down and removed his soaked t-shirt and bottoms. Gladio was still standing in the door way. “I better check on your uncle.”

“Or you could stay. Atticus, I am sure is sound asleep. I know you have more questions. I saw the envelope in your room when you were trapped in the Green Room. You simply could have asked my uncle. Of course, he would have given you only the surface of our problems. However, he knew you had seen the painting. I am sure he would have given you more information, but I guess the news would suffice.”

“I’m sorry.” Gladio bowed his head. The smallness was as suffocating as feeling his death. “So, are you dead or…”

Ignis gave a tiny laugh. “On the contrary I am very much alive. My mother took my death, took my sacrifice. However, the angel still demands a price to be paid for its captivity. I am honestly surprised it has not broken its shackles and slaughtered my uncle and I, like it did my grandfather. How I remember the copper smell of his blood and the shock in his eyes. It had ripped him apart before my grandmother had contained it. A closed casket that one.” 

He looked at Gladio, saw the horrified expression and shook his head, laughing. “My apologies, Gladio. You do not share my morbid sense of humor, but please stay with me. I do hate to be alone after a drowning.”

Gladio watched as Ignis folded down the downy white comforter and crawled under it in nothing. In the moonlight his skin glowed a little. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please do close the door behind you.”

Gladio did, making sure to lock it. He followed Ignis and lay beside him. They were face to face, noses inches apart. Without his glasses on he looked strangely younger than twenty-six. Almost like a boy of sixteen he had been in the dream. Gladio couldn’t imagine what it was like to live with all of this. How did you walk through the world knowing that your family was going to end with you?

“How old were you when you first died?” Gladio didn’t know why he asked that question. It had come into his mind, unbidden, and he had voiced it not thinking much of it. 

Ignis’ breath ghosted over his lips. “I was, I think, six. The second time I was sixteen. You witnessed that as well as the third, this time.”

“It just happens on ages ending in six? Bizarre. Sure it’s an angel and not a demon?”

Ignis groaned. “It’s every ten years and please, Gladiolus. They’re the same basically, but this one is an angel. As you said a seraphim. Or at least that’s what we believe. Well, I guess it would be considered a demon since its mind is twisted and deformed. Semantics, though.”

“It looked hideous in that portrait.”

“That’s how they actually look.”

“Be not afraid. I know, your uncle told me.”

Ignis closed his eyes and let out a soft noise. “My uncle. I worry about him. He is dying and when he is gone, I’ll be left alone.”

“What about your girlfriend and kid?”

“If she stays. As I told you things have been very bad between us. I have tried to protect her, however the angel’s influence is heavy over my bloodline and she’s not as safe as she could be. She doesn’t know about our curse. Doesn’t know that our child would be cursed as well. Even she’s cursed and I am a coward for not telling her.” He ran a hand down over his face. 

“You could tell her,” Gladio mumbled. “Don’t let anything happen to her because you’re too much of a chickenshit.”

Ignis guffawed. “You’ve got balls, sir. You are right though. I need to tell her.”

Gladio watched as Ignis’ breathing became more even and soon the man was snoring softly. Gladio made to get out of the bed when he felt a sudden chill. He looked towards the window where the moonlight was cascading through to see Lavinia staring at them forlornly. She held a hand out towards Ignis and the smile she wore broke Gladio’s heart. 

“My precious Ignis,” she rasped. “My sweet boy. My drowned prince.”

Ignis stirred in his sleep, his arm coming to rest on Gladio’s shoulder. Gladio put his head back on the pillow and put his arms around Ignis. Ignis scooted into his embrace, never rousing, but moving closer to the warmth like a child. Gladio rested his chin on top of Ignis’ head and closed his eyes, Lavinia still watching them with those mournful eyes. 

In the morning, Gladio woke to Ignis standing in front of the window staring down into the gardens behind the house. 

“Uncle is out for his morning stroll, I see.” 

Gladio got up and joined him. He looked down to see Atticus gaze up at the house before wheeling himself towards the fountain in the center. “I’ll make breakfast. He probably hasn’t eaten yet.”

“No, you take the day off. I’ll cook. It’s been awhile since I’ve done that for him.”

The scent of frying bacon and sausage greeted Atticus when he came into the kitchen. He greeted the two men, his newspaper tucked into his lap. He grinned broadly when he saw Ignis standing over the stove. 

“Haven’t seen you do this in forever, Ignis.” 

Gladio patted Ignis’ exposed shoulder, the tank top revealing beauty marks that he wanted to map like constellations. He blushed as he spoke. “He told me to take the morning off.”

Ignis pointed a spatula at him. “I said the ‘day’. Take the day off and let me take care of my uncle like I should.”

Atticus placed his paper on the table and looked at the back of Ignis’ head. “Why the change of heart, my boy?”

Ignis checked the bacon one last time before transferring it to a paper towel. He rolled his shoulders. “I died again last night.”

Atticus hissed out Ignis’ name. Gladio sat down across from him. “I found him,” he began, “I was dreaming about him and when I woke up to shouting I figured something was wrong. I found him drowning in his room.”

“You weren’t at the lake this time?”

Ignis sat the plate of bacon down on the table. “I believe I may have provoked the angel or the house or both. Are they even separate anymore?”

Atticus bit his lower lip. “I’m worried, Ignis, and with this child.”

“Oh, Aranea informed me that she may have an abortion. I’m not going to stop her. It is her decision and her body. She’s on her way here today as well. Said she wanted to see you mostly.”

Gladio took the plate of sausage and eggs. “Look like she’s talking to you again.”

“To fuss at me.” Ignis sat down beside him and helped himself to some food. Before he could begin eating the doorbell rang. “Who could that be?”

“Aranea?” Gladio asked. 

“She’s not coming until this afternoon.” He went to the door and let out a happy squeal. “Camelia!”

Camelia Claustra had a down-turned mouth that made her look perpetually annoyed. She didn’t mince her words and it was apparent why the Scientias loved her. Her no nonsense attitude matched her no nonsense haircut and when she handed her bags to Gladio, he didn’t bother to tell her he wasn’t a bellhop, he just went to her room to drop off her things. 

She joined them for breakfast, pleased that Ignis had cooked and that he looked healthy. “Is that girlfriend of yours feeding you?” Ignis made a noise that she took to mean yes. “Good. I was worried.”

Ignis gulped down his food. “I do most of the cooking since Aranea works evenings.”

“Doing what?”

“Security.”

“Ah.” She sounded indifferent. She turned to Gladio and gazed at him as if seeing him for the first time. “And who are you?”

Atticus spoke up on his behalf. “Gladio is my carer.”

Camelia waved her fork around. “You’re dying so you need a carer?”

Atticus nodded. “Yes, Camelia. It leaves Ignis and you free to live your lives.”

Camelia gave a mirthless chuckle. “As much as we can. Don’t know how much a dead man can live. I assume you know about them?” Camelia turned her steely gaze onto Gladio, who nodded. “Then you know you keep company with some unsavory people.”

“I like them though.”

“So do I. Don’t know what I’m going to do if I lose you both,” she said softly. 

Ignis placed a hand reassuringly on her arm. “Sell all our possessions and live a happy life.”

Camelia smacked his hand playfully and the three of them laughed. Gladio thought the scene seemed particularly dreary. 

Gladio and Ignis sat on the fountain in the garden. Camelia had all but kicked them out of the house. “I’ll let you know when Aranea arrives!”

Gladio had found a pack of crumpled cigarettes in the pocket of his pea-coat, long forgotten when he had quit last year. “Want one?” He held the pack out to Ignis, who had been eyeballing it. He held a hand out. 

“I haven’t smoked since I was a teenager. Nasty habit, you know?”

“I know. That’s why I quit.” Gladio grinned. “There’s only one in here. We’re going to have to share.”

Ignis winked. “How tragic.” 

Gladio held up the lighter and Ignis sucked in. The tip flared orange then died down. Ignis took it out immediately to cough violently. “Wow, you fucking lightweight.”

“Shut up,” Ignis rasped. “Here.”

Gladio took a long, deep drag off it. “God, these things are gross. I don’t miss it.” He tossed it to the ground and snuffed it out. “I saw you smoking in my dream. Couldn’t imagine what had started that habit.”

Ignis’ brown eyebrows went up and he let out a barking laugh. “I grew up here! I quit the same year I started. My cousin, Noctis, your boss, Prompto, and I used to come out here and get high or just smoke whatever cigarettes we grabbed off the adults.”

“You three sounded like troublemakers.”

Ignis lifted his face up to the sun, smiling. “We were. Horrible teenagers made even more horrible by this fucked up family. At least Noct and I. Prompto got swept along with us because he adored Noct. We promised that we would put so much distance between us and here. Only they made good on that.”

“Now I know how Prompto did, but what about Noctis?” Gladio fiddled with the stem of a brilliant red leaf. He twisted it into a knot and held it out for Ignis. 

Ignis took it and held it up to the sky. Then he let it flutter down towards the ground. “He moved to Altissia with his wife, Lunafreya. He was fortunate to not have been born a Scientia, so the angel didn’t try to hurt him as badly as it could have.”

“Caelum.” Gladio stated remembering Ignis’ father’s last name. 

“Indeed. His father, Regis, was my father’s older brother. After my father died Regis moved them to Hammerhead out in Cleigne. He claimed he wanted the sunshine and warmth. We knew it was to get Noct away from us. Then when Noct turned 23, he married Luna. I haven’t seen him since his wedding day.”

Gladio glanced at Ignis, his eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the pout of his lower lip down to his throat. “Ignis.”

Kissing Ignis felt natural. It felt like the right thing at the right time. He felt Ignis’ mouth open up to him and he slipped his tongue against his, deepening the kiss. Long fingers entwined in his hair, pulling his bun loose. He put his arms around Ignis and pulled him closer. They parted, trying to catch their breath. 

“That was worth getting screamed at by your mom last night.” Gladio rested his forehead against Ignis’. 

“I agree. We should do that again.” Ignis made to lean in closer when his phone chirped from his coat pocket. He glanced at the display and rolled his eyes.

Gladio didn’t want to let him go, but Ignis slipped out of his arms. “Hello, Aranea? You’re here? Okay, I’ll meet you out front.”

Ignis held his out to Gladio. Gladio took it and rose to his feet. “Interrupted again.”

“May be for the best, Gladio.”

“Look , Iggy, I like you and if things with her don’t work out, I would like to be with you.”

“My family.”

“Be damned for all I care.”

“We are, darling.”

Aranea ran to Ignis as soon as he walked out the front door. She hugged him tightly and kissed him. Then she slapped him so hard that Camelia, Atticus and Gladio all gasped out loud. She noticed them on the front steps. “Sorry,” she said sternly. “He deserved that.”

Ignis rubbed the side of his face, the red hand print bright against his skin. “Bloody hell.” He grimaced.

“I texted you all last night and this morning and not once did you respond.”

“I was busy,” he replied. Busy dying, he wanted to add. 

She squinted at him, trying to see if she could sense a lie. “I’m going to have it done.”

“Can we talk about this inside, please?”

She looked over his shoulder, sadly, and waved to Atticus. “Hi, Atticus.” She then turned to Ignis and shook her head. “I got a job offer in Lestallum. I had been hoping they’d call for months and well, they did. I’m leaving.”

Ignis’ hand dropped to his side. “You what? You never mentioned looking for another job.”

“You didn’t ask. You never asked what my plans were, you know. You were always so damned busy with your work.” She laughed bitterly. “Never had time for little old me. Our relationship was a joke, Ignis!”

Atticus gazed up Camellia and Gladio. “I believe we should head inside. Let them talk in private.”

Gladio stood by the window in the foyer watching them until finally Ignis and Aranea hugged one last time and he headed back inside. Aranea sped off in her little hatchback, the dust kicking up behind her. 

Stepping into the hall, Gladio caught Ignis before he could storm past. Ignis didn’t even fight him as he pulled him against him. “She’s gone.” Ignis sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end though. Nope, not by a long shot, lovelies!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love and given a warning. Gladio is not good at listening. He never really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fought for months with this chapter and decided enough was enough. It is short, however it does what I want it do. Hopefully it won't take me this long to get the other chapter(s) out. 
> 
> Con-crit is welcomed and appreciated. Kudos and comments are as well. ♥

Ignis was broken.

Gladio watched him wander from room to room like a ghost himself. He hadn’t shaved in two days and the beard he was growing, while nice to look at, made him look older. Gladio had to count his blessings though; Ignis made sure to shower, even if Gladio could hear sobbing through the door when he passed by.

“I know it was only a few months,” Ignis said one evening over dinner, “but she was the one who stayed the longest and I loved her. I loved her so damned much.”

Gladio patted his arm, as Atticus watched them curiously. “She loved you, too, I’m sure,” Gladio replied. He didn’t really know. The day she came to tell Ignis she was leaving was the first time he saw her. Yet he knew there had to be something there with the way Ignis was acting and the text she last sent him.

Ignis buried his face in his arms, his dinner forgotten. Atticus let out a heavy sigh. “For God’s sake, pull yourself together, boy.”

Gladio’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t turn to meet Atticus’ gaze. “He’s heartbroken. I know you can see that, sir.”

“I can and he’s being utterly foolish. She was one woman. You’ve had plenty of lovers, Ignis.”

Ignis sat up. With red-rimmed eyes, he stared at Atticus. “She was the only one to stay, uncle. The others either used me for a night or were driven mad. Not exactly a stellar track record.”

Gladio put his arm around Ignis’ shoulders and pulled him close. “It’s okay. There will be others,” he whispered into his hair. Ignis softened against him and pushed his face into his broad chest. Atticus observed them with a scowl.

In the living room later, Atticus and Gladio sat in stony silence. Ignis had gone to bed early, worn out by his crying. Gladio had wanted to lie beside him and hold him like his mother used to do him when he was sad, however he didn’t want to anger Atticus anymore than he was already.

He wondered why he was so upset with them. What had they done?

“Sir,” Gladio begun as he continued to watch the news.

Before he could finish, Atticus spoke. “Don’t you dare fall in love with him, Gladiolus.”

Gladio looked at him, surprised. “What makes you think I’m falling in love with Ignis?”

“The way you treat him, coddle him. He is easily swayed by shows of affection and you seem to be keen on showing him plenty. Do not ruin him.”

Gladio’s brow furrowed. “I would think it’s too late for that, Atticus.” He stood up, brushing his pants off. “This family has already done that.”

“It has, but don’t make it worse.”

Gladio stopped in the door way. “He deserves to be loved, Atticus.”

Ignis’ sleep was fitful. The angel hovered in the darker corner of dream spaces and it scared him. He felt as if he were drowning all over again until he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his front. He pressed back, feeling the solid warm mass behind him. Gladio.

“I’m here,” Gladio whispered into his ear.

Ignis felt a shiver go through him. “You shouldn’t be. I’m sure my uncle warned you.”

“Fuck him.” Gladio rumbled as he rested his chin on top of Ignis’ head. “You shouldn’t be made to suffer because of them.”

Ignis grasped Gladio’s forearms and a sob ripped through his body. Gladio arranged him so that he was facing him and pulled him against him. “Go ahead, Iggy. Let it out.”

Something stirred in Ignis’ memory. A dark haired boy with a bright smile and wild black hair, running through the garden shouting,“Catch me, Iggy! Come on! You can do it! Iggy!”

“Gladio, have you visited the manor before working for my uncle?” Ignis asked, his voice somewhat muffled by Gladio’s black t-shirt.

Gladio shook his head. “Nope. Why?”

“It’s nothing.” The memory lingered though, hazy and half forgotten in the back of his mind. If he could just snatch it from the ether, then he’d have it completely.

Gladio gave him a lopsided smile and Ignis felt his heart tug. He smiled back. “You feeling better?” Ignis nodded and Gladio kissed him. Like the first time, this kiss just felt right.

Gladio wasn’t sure if it was too soon to be falling into bed with Ignis. He wasn’t sure if there would ever be a good time to fall into bed with him if he were honest with himself.

Ignis pulled him down, crushing their lips together so hard he tasted copper. He felt strong, limber legs wrap around his waist and he wanted to tell Ignis he wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going to leave him.

“Gladio,” Ignis whispered against his lips. “Please.”

Gladio sat up, pulling his thermal up and over his head. He felt a finger trace the beak of his eagle tattoo. A shiver ran up through him and kissed the side of Ignis’ face. “I’m never going to leave.”

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, the title is reminiscent of Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples because I had a title then forgot that one, then went online to read poems about haunted houses, found nothing and then I thought, while making the playlist, "Why not just name it Ivy, Ruin, Rot. That's pretty much what a haunted house is." And there we are. ♥


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